Not The Same
by Thatswhatyouthink
Summary: You've changed. Oh, how you have changed. I loved you once, I might still, but something's missing, and I think it's just too late.


[A/N] I was listening to the song "Not the Same" by Bodyjar, and this little fic popped into my head. It's the first time I have written something un-Draco/Ginny and I'm hoping it's okay. I don't like Harry too much, and making him suffer amuses me, so Potter fans beware! Read and Enjoy! [A/N]

As I walked through the corridor, I happened to catch my reflection in the mirror. My hair was sticking up in odd places; it looked as if it wanted to escape from my head completely. Returning my attention to the hall before me, I tried to smooth my hair with my hand. I don't know why I do it, because I know perfectly well that my hair is just going to continue to stand at weird angles and make me even more noticeable than I already am. I'm not bragging, really, I would rather be invisible than have this stupid – thing – on my forehead. I ran my hand over my scar, it's lightning-shape raised against my skin. It tingled as I did it – actually, there was a prickly sensation there most of the time now. Being famous is more trouble than its worth.

I got to the Great Hall, just as lunch was starting. I spotted Ron and Hermione in their usual seats, and as usual, they had saved a seat for me. I also saw the place where Fred and George used to sit, and wished they were still at school. They could have cheered me up for sure. But there was also another redhead missing: Ginny. I couldn't for the life of me figure out where she was. Sitting down with Hermione on my right and Ron on my left, I grabbed the plate with sandwiches on it, took two for myself, and offered my friends some. They already had food on their plates, and they declined.

"Where's Ginny?" I asked. Obviously this was the wrong question, because Ron turned nearly as purple as Uncle Vernon when I first got my Hogwarts letter, and Hermione looked down at her shoes. Then Hermione's footwear must have started to bore her, because she looked up, and turned her head in the direction of the Slytherin table. I followed her gaze, and much to my dismay, I found that Ginny was sitting next to Malfoy, eating and joking with all of those... Deatheaters!

"How could she- Why in hell would she- Is she going- _Malfoy?_" I sputtered.

Hermione just nodded and Ron changed colors again.

I shook my head in disbelieve. It was insane! Ginny used to be so sweet, so shy- so innocent. And now she was – oh no – she was _kissing_ Malfoy. How could she do something like that? As I left the Great Hall, my legs felt leaden and I wanted to throw up. After classes were over for the day, I went to my bed, pulled the covers shut and hoped that the whole day would turn out to be some kind of horrible dream. It wasn't.

I was in love with Ginny. I had liked her for a while, and now that I had to see her with someone else, my feelings seemed to grow deeper. How could something like this happen? Surely the Ginny I knew wouldn't have gone out with a Slytherin. Not after Tom, I shouldn't think. And- and- _Malfoy?_ He was so arrogant and mean and evil. How could she ever like him? How could anyone?

Tomorrow was Saturday, I would be sure to catch her and talk to her then.

I woke up, and reached for my glasses. After putting them on, all of the scarlet blobs turned into the four-posters that the other sixth-year boys and I slept in. I had something to do today, it was burning in my brain. What was it?

I knew as soon as I got down to the common room. Ginny was sitting on the couch, reading, wearing her pajamas and her hair all messy from sleep. She had never looked more beautiful. I sat down next to her, she didn't even look up. I said 'hello' and she merely blinked. What did I have to do? I noticed the book she was reading; _101 Dark Arts Secrets for Aspiring Necromancers._ Why would she want to read something like that? And she had to have gotten it from the Restricted Section, but how?

"Where'd you get the book?" I asked. She seemed offended that I would even speak to her, but she answered me anyway.

"A place," she said. Well, she sort of answered me.

"Really? That sounds interesting. What place did you get it from?"

"The one with the stuff," she still wasn't giving in. What the hell was her problem?

"Ginny, what is up with you lately? Are you going out with Malfoy? Why? And why are you reading a book about the Dark Arts?" I hoped that this line of questioning might get some better answers. Well, sort of.

"Nothing. Yes. Because. And none of your business," she said nonchalantly, and very annoyed.

"Could you put down that book for a second?" I asked, fed up with her inattentive sarcasm. She put a finger in between the pages she was reading and set the book in her lap. "Now why are you being so difficult?"

"You think I'm only being difficult? Damn, I was going for impossible," she said, looking disappointed.

"I'm serious! I want to know what happened to the Ginny I used to know, the Ginny that would help me make up predictions for Trelawney and laugh at my jokes and, get this, actually sit at her own table during meal times? What happened to her?" I was almost shouting, but she was calmly looking at me, as if I had just inquired about the weather.

"She died, Potter," she drew out my name in the most horrible way, "and she is never coming back. Like disco."

But unlike before, she didn't stop there. She seemed to be on a roll.

"I happen to _like_ sitting with my boyfriend at meal times. Unlike you and the Dream Team, he will pay attention to me, he will laugh at _my_ jokes, and we happen to like each other, thank you very much. I haven't liked you for a long time now, Harry, and I won't like you ever again. If you can't deal with that, you are even less of a human being than I thought. Are we done yet, or would you like me to insult you more?" Damn, that hurt.

It was hard to speak. My mouth was dry and my tongue felt like it weighed a ton. But I finally got out the words I had been meaning to say the whole time. It was a lot harder now though.

"Actually, I do have a problem with you not liking me anymore. It's a big problem. Big, _huge!_ Here's the thing: I love you. Well, I love the old you. I loved it when you would help me with Divinations. Your predictions of my death were always my favorite. I loved how you laughed, it was like music. And I loved the way you always took the crust off of your bread, and then ate it later. I loved you, and I still love you, but you're not there anymore. You've changed."

She looked shocked. But she wasn't thrown off for long.

"You're damn right I changed, and I'm happy. I am really, truly happy this way. If you don't like it, you can just walk down to the lake and jump in, because I'm sure the Squid would like you for company more than I do. Good bye." And she was gone.

I still think about her often, although I think I am finally getting over Ginny Weasley. A little bit anyway. One day I found her sitting outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, crying. I asked her what was wrong, and she told me to shove it. I tried, right? Anyway, that night, at dinner, she excused herself early from the table and made her way to the door. As she passed by me, she handed me a note.

__

I predict that my life will come to a dreadful end following an encounter with a large moose armed only with Hogwarts: A History_ and a white glove. He will first challenge me to a duel, slapping me with the glove, and then proceed to bore me into oblivion with the book. I told Hermione nothing good could come of that thing._

And enclosed in the note was a handful of bread crusts. I felt sick again. I wanted to laugh and cry and murder somebody (Malfoy) all at the same time. I wanted to explode. Ginny might have held onto her old habits, but I couldn't deny it any longer: she had changed.

Oh Ginny, how I loved you.

You're not the same.


End file.
